Fake for your life! (English version)
by Mounira
Summary: Ever since Alfred had been sentenced as an inpatient, all he had been doing was creating the perfect strategy to leave the clinic as quickly as possible. He even gave the strategy a name: operation "Fake for your life!".
1. Welcome to Sunny State

**Author's Note:** In 2012 I started working on this story. Currently 25 chapters exist, yet it's still a work in progress and since I'm lacking free time updates will be quite irregular. Still, I hope some of you are interested in this story.

The first chapters are all very short, but later chapters are much longer and darker, focusing mainly on the description of eating disorders, (traumatic) past experiences, depression, and therapy. Please understand this as a **trigger warning** and don't read this story if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

Characters featured in this story are America, North Italy, fem!Russia, England, Liechtenstein, Finland, Belarus, Ukraine, Spain, Belgium, Tony, fem!America and much more.

Last but not least, I'd like to thank my beta Catherine for her quick and encouraging beta service!

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 **{ 01. | Welcome to Sunny State }**

Sighing indignantly, the 16 year-old American took his new sneakers out of his travel bag. The pair had barely been touched until this morning, when the nurse who checked Alfred's stuff decided that ripping out the laces was an absolute necessarily. Now the poor sneakers had a remarkable resemblance with a callously eviscerated pig.  
"No laces? Are you kidding me?!" was Alfred's only comment on the matter. Bewildered and angry, he put the pair of shoes in the wardrobe allotted to him. He really had to get out off this place! He did not need people in his life who stole his laces and waited in front of the bathroom while he was inside. This was simply unacceptable!

Swearing like a trooper, Alfred put the rest of his clothes into the tall, wooden wardrobe. Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead. This room felt like a sauna. The heat was almost unbearable, yet Alfred doubted that he could ever sweat away all his excessive body fat.  
Vigorously he crossed the sparsely furnished room and grabbed the window handle. Outside a lonely late summer day presented its gray face; neither sun nor rain kept him company. Alfred found that the window was secured, which made it impossible to fully open it. It could only be tilted. The clinic seemed to place great value on security. There were even bars in front of the window! As if he would ever be able to squeeze through the damn window..!

A tiny breeze slipped into the room where dead air, the sharp odor of disinfectants, and the sickening smell of old canteen food had been vegetating for far too long. Enjoying the fresh draft, Alfred closed his eyes. He had promised himself to stay positive and to handle things the way he always did: optimistically. Yet knowing that his parents put him in this hell-hole because they thought he had a problem made it hard to keep his attitude alive.  
 **Problem?  
** Alfred did not have a problem! He simply did not allow himself to have any problems for there was no place for his problems in his family. If only he had been more careful! If only he had managed to guard his secret a little better, then his parents would have never noticed something was wrong with him and he would still be at home...

"Ve...?"

Alfred's eyes snatched open. With his hand still on the window handle, he turned around and saw another boy, probably his roommate, standing in the door. Alfred was not surprised. When he had entered the room about 10 minutes ago, he had seen many silent witnesses of another human's existence. Clothes, books, magazines, and some other items were spread across one of the beds. Hence, the all-important question was not if he had a roommate, but what type of guy his roommate was. Since Alfred considered offense to be the best defense, he let go of the window handle, grinned and offered the other boy a greeting hand.

"Hey, dude!"

The boy's brown eyes grew wide with astonishment.  
"I can't believe it! I've got a new roommate!" Smiling wholeheartedly, he spoke with a welcoming Italian accent and joyfully shook Alfred's hand. His warm eyes shined so bright that Alfred felt caught like a deer in the headlights.

"God, I'm so excited! No-one told me you'd come! My name is Feliciano!"

To be honest, Alfred was amazed by Feliciano's enthusiasm. Energetic and friendly, the quick speaking Italian was the kind of company Alfred had hoped to meet, so it would be easier for him to keep his own spirits up. Feliciano seemed to be one of those guys who were happiest lying in the sun, dedicating their free time to laziness and napping.

"Have you unpacked your stuff yet? And what about the ward? Have you seen it? I mean, it's small, like _really_ small, but we have a living room here where we can watch telly and most staff members are actually very nice. Say, what's your name?"

Alfred felt a little dizzy which was entirely Feliciano's fault. While talking, Feliciano had been running through the whole room. First, to have a glance into Alfred's wardrobe -and consequently answering the unpacking-questions for himself. Then, he had circled twice around Alfred, before he had finally stopped and closed the window.

"Uhm... yeah, no, my name's Alfred. And I've just opened that window..." Alfred's last remark fell upon deaf ears. Feliciano just kept on smiling and babbling.  
"Welcome to Sunny State, Alfred! I'm so happy to meet you. You've no clue how scary it can be here at night. Do you see that tree over there?!" Without turning around, Feliciano pointed at a tree growing outside in the park. "Whenever the wind's getting a little stronger, the damn branches of this tree scratch over the windowpane! I swear, it sounds like a monster digging through the glass!"

"Hey! Don't worry, dude! I guarantee you, next time this monster shows up, I'll take care of it."

Relief kissed Feliciano's face and erased every hint of his fear. Alfred did not have the merest idea why his roommate was caught in this clinic. Feliciano looked quite ordinary in his thick, cozy sweater. His hair was a crazy brown mess that did not need taming, his face was lively and his openmindedness convinced Alfred that his roommate was doing so fine that he was probably released in a few days.

"So, how are things here?" Alfred asked casually.

"We have to get up at 6!"

"6 in the morning?" Alfred could not quite believe his ears, but Feliciano's eyes had stopped gleaming and his smile was nowhere to be found anymore. So he must have spoken the truth.

"That's terrible, isn't it? I'm always so freaking tired in the morning. I mean, how can you not be tired at 6 am?"

"But-but _**why**_?" Shock made Alfred stutter. Then his anger set in. "They can't just throw us out off bed, can they? That's inhuman! Don't we have any rights in here? Like the right of sleeping in!?"

Silence was Feliciano's answer, followed by a slow squint. Then the cheerful smile returned to his lips, but it was not as bright as before. He had just realized that Alfred did not bother to gather any information about the Sunny State clinic in advance. Alfred had, in fact, ignored whatever his parents had told him about the clinic. Ever since he had been sentenced as an inpatient, all he had been doing was creating the perfect strategy to leave the clinic as quickly as possible. He even gave the strategy a name: operation " _Fake for your life!_ ".

"You know, every morning we're getting", Feliciano bit his tongue while his gaze wandered restlessly from one corner of the room into the other. When he met Alfred's eyes again, he took a step forward, put a hand on Alfred's forearm and lost a whispered "weighed!". The word made him rather uncomfortable, and Alfred shared this feeling. Instantly, his ears and cheeks turned a deep crimson color, and Alfred swallowed hard for his throat was suddenly dry as a desert. Haunted by the echo of Feliciano's voice, Alfred did not even protest when he was dragged out of the room.

 _We have to get up at 6. We're getting weighed!  
_ **Weighed!  
** This was pure torture!

Following Feliciano, Alfred quietly shook his head to get rid of the burning redness occupying his cheeks. It did not work, though. Instead, persistent self-doubts took control over his thoughts and made him realize how big he actually was. Compared to the fragile Italian, Alfred felt horribly fat and clumsy. If only he was not overweight...

While Alfred wished he still had his old feel-good weight, a chattering Feliciano led him through the harshly lighted corridor. The boys passed the nurses' room, the dining room and the living room. The relatively short corridor accommodated only a small number of doors. All of them were closed, so Alfred could not estimate how many other patients were currently imprisoned here.  
Finally, Feliciano stopped right in front of a door. Next to the door, a small sign hung on the wall, informing Alfred that this was the room which from now on would ruin Alfred's mood daily. It was the room with the scale in it.


	2. DSM-IV 307 1

**Author's Note: Thank you** to all of you who added my story to the favorites and/or decided to follow it! And **a special thanks** to HetalianForever and Guest for the kind reviews! It's good to see you like this story :-) **  
**I apologize for keeping you waiting, and I hope you'll like chapter 2 as well. You'll meet more characters and I used OCs for some of the staff members. Nothing to worry about, I guess.

Also, I'd like to **thank my beta** Cat for her great beta service!

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 **{02. | DSM-IV 307.1}**

The office was definitely too small for the current conversation. Alfred wished he was back in his room, listening to whatever crazy story Feliciano felt like sharing with him. Sadly, Alfred's present situation was quite different: He was forced to fake interest in the apparently endless lecture of a doctor. The man was in his late 40s and equipped with a pair of rimless glasses. Due to his age, white wisps of hair had long become native on his head, and his monotone voice was a perfect sleeping aid. A woman, probably in her 30s and dressed in a plain blouse, sat right next to him and seemed far more interested in the conversation than Alfred.

The blond patient just sat on his chair and smiled eagerly, while he ignored whatever the doctor told him about the treatment and the daily routine in the clinic. Frankly, Alfred could not care less. He was too busy playing a perfectly healthy 16-year old teenager, who had learned to smile away problems from a very young age on. His smile, though, no longer reached his eyes. The infinite despair reflected in them belonged to a person who was trapped in a cell and had come to realize that the key had been thrown away. Alfred's imprisonment was the result of his parents' overreaction. Neither his mom nor his dad believed he had the strength to handle the situation –or the **problem** , as they called it– on his own. That was ridiculous, though! Alfred was by far old enough to make his own decisions. It was not his parents' business what he did to maintain his inner balance. They probably cared less about his health than about the mere fact that he had a problem at all. Officially, problems did not even exist in his family and consequently were never discussed openly. To eliminate the problem his parents had simply deported Alfred from home. The equation read: no problem at home = no problem in the family.

At least Feliciano was an encouraging company. His story telling skills were as vivid as the chirpy Italian himself, and his favorite topic was his home country and its food. With the greatest devotion, Feliciano had introduced Alfred to the art of freshly prepared pasta and the wide range of pasta types: spaghetti, rigatoni, fusilli, farfalle, macaroni …  
After that, Feli had continued with naming the ingredients for all kinds of tortellini fillings and sauces. Alfred was speechless. Never before had he met a person who knew so much about pasta! By now, Alfred surely had learned more about pasta than an average person would ever do in the course of his life. The only disadvantage of Feli's endless talking was Alfred's burgeoning hunger! Hence, he had tried to stop his roommate's flow of words at some point, but Feliciano had completely lost himself in family anecdotes involving cooking and eating. During the last few months, Alfred had always assumed that he was the person whose entire world was ruled by food. But, as it had turned out today, Feliciano was the undisputed number one in this field.

"..Alright then. Do you have any questions, Alfred?" the question harshly cut through Alfred's thoughts and led him back to the present. A quiet expectation lay on the doctor's face.

Alfred shock happily his head. His "Nope!" came quick as a shot.

Skeptically, the doctor lifted an eyebrow. It appeared that he wanted to add something, but eventually he solely nodded in an accepting manner.  
The conversation was officially declared over.  
Delighted, Alfred said goodbye and bunked out of the room, just to run into the smell of freshly cooked food on the floor. His voracious stomach promptly produced a loud greeting sound. Sniveling, Alfred remembered how little he had eaten today. After a skipped breakfast, he and his parents had stopped at a McDonald's. After all, his parents wanted Alfred to eat regularly... Just the memory of the delicious and fatty food made Alfred's mouth water. He suddenly felt so hungry that he was ready to sell his soul for another burger or for some of the treats he was hoarding in his bed drawer, well hidden from his parents behind the boxes of model airplanes.

Slowly, Alfred crossed the corridor and reached the big room which was absurdly divided into living room and dining room. The back of the room was decorated with two comfortable sofas, a wooden table, and a supporting table for the old-fashioned TV. A waist-high shelf offered books, magazines and tattered boxes with board games to the patients. The view reminded Alfred of a holiday home promising fun during the stay.  
The front area, was a whole different story. The inventory of the dining room was limited to three naked table islands, each of them surrounded by chairs, and a depressing gray was the all dominating color. The naked windows missed curtains and some pictures would do no harm to the sterile walls.

The room was empty, except for a boy sitting on one of the sofas. Curiously, Alfred scanned the other patient who was delved into a book. An untouched cup of tea stood on the table right in front of him. His perfectly clean shirt, trousers and slipover were crease-free and fitted like a glove. With his prominent collar bones and his long delicate fingers this guy was at least as thin as Feliciano! At the drop of a hat, Alfred's fears and worries were reanimated by gruffly shame. He was the only person in this damn clinic who was overweight, was not he?  
Again, his stomach roared like a hungry lion and Alfred felt caught red-handed. Taking a step back from the door, he uncomfortably crossed his arms in front of his stomach. The other patient did not show any reaction, though, and Alfred was just glad his greedy, food-addicted body would remain undiscovered a little longer.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred ordered his stomach to keep quiet and adjusted his façade. In no time, his smile and his courage were back in their usual place, and Alfred regained the nerve to face the world and meet a new person.  
"Hey, dude! My name is–!"  
"Let me guess. You're Mr 'I'm new here and I think we should be friends because we're in the same ward'?" The boy used his razor-sharp words like a sword. Alfred intuitively stopped on his way to the couch, scared to be cut into pieces.  
"...um, yes! I'm Alfred and I share a room with Feliciano."  
"Well, everything's just fine then." Turning his attention back to his book, the boy pressed a cynical laughter through his gritted teeth.

"Everything's just fine?"

Alfred's question was completed ignored. The other boy just kept on reading. The remains of his laughter still nested in the corners of his mouth and his aura was that of a person who used his words like bricks. Behind his self-constructed wall, he did as he liked and kept his knowledge to himself.

A few silent seconds passed, and Alfred could not help but feel banished from the other patient's world without a reason. He did not do anything wrong, did he? No, this guy probably just got up on the wrong side of bed today.  
With a nonchalant "What was your name again?" Alfred flopped down on the sofa and noisily looked over the other boy's shoulder. Not thrilled at all, the boy immediately closed his book and moved to the other end of the couch. His annoyed grimace could be read like a street sign: _Do not pass this safety distance!_

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. And I don't do small talk about your or my or anyone's diagnosis. We all know why we're here. Well, God only knows why out of all patients they chose Feliciano as your roommate..." A mystifying amusement left its mark on Arthur's British accent. Slightly shaking his head, he put the book on the table. Since it was covered in a plain black book jacket, the author and title remained a secret for Alfred, who did not understand what was so funny. So he was more or less left with watching Arthur carefully taking his cup from the table. After he had inspected the tea, Arthur's lips met the edge of the white plastic. When he put the cup back on its saucer a few seconds later, he nearly burst with pride.

"Dude, I think you just forgot to drink", a confused Alfred mentioned.

"Surely not! And I think some more tea and a little less pig feed wouldn't harm you either!" Arthur's belligerent gaze bored into Alfred's round belly. Stabbing humiliation painted Alfred's face red like a tomato and forced him to pull in his stomach as much as possible.  
"Guess what! I do drink tea! Iced tea and bubble tea, for example!" he proudly corrected the other patient whose face froze due to this superb 'defense'. An appalling horror had destroyed Arthur's shrewish nature entirely, and it took him a few seconds until he was able to finally shook his head and mutter something incomprehensible.

"Oh, you guys are early! You must be hungry then", said the jovial nurse who was just about to enter the dining room with a metallic trolley that carried various food trays. A little tag with a name and a room number was attached to each tray, and the plates were all capped. The sight remembered Alfred more than ever that he was in a clinic. Nevertheless, his body began to relax for there was food that would gag his growling stomach and numb his hidden anxiety.

"No, thank you. I still have my tea." Indicating that he had already been attended, Arthur took another sip from his cup. This time Alfred actually saw him swallow.

"Now come on, honey. You know very well that your tea is no replacement for a proper meal." The nurse's well-meaning voice and Arthur's morose facial expression indicated that such dialogues were part of the daily routine.

"Yeah, she's right." Emboldening, Alfred stood up and looked at the other patient who rolled his eyes in return and made no effort to move over to the dining room.

"Dude, come on! It's just food." Driven by his hunger, Alfred was about to add an imprudent 'It won't kill ya!', as Arthur scornfully snorted.  
"Of course it's _just food,_ you bloody idiot!" With his cup still in his hand, Arthur brusquely got up to sit at the table next to the window. Satisfied, the nurse put a tray on the table in front of him. Alfred could not estimate her age. Her features were young and unbiased, yet she radiated an authority usually born by long-term experience.

Wondering if a fixed seating plan existed, Alfred trotted into the dining room where the nurse was currently filling a huge plastic cup with orange juice. When Alfred stopped next to the metallic trolley, a short smile played around her lips. Nancy stood on the name plate stuck to her white top.  
"You must be our new patient. Alfred, right?"

"Yep!"

With some quick steps she made her way to Arthur's table and enriched his lunch with the orange juice. After that, she took two of the food trails and placed them on the table next to the door.  
"You can sit with Arthur if you like. He sets a good example", she suggested as she returned to the trolley.

If pretending to drink tea was setting a good example, Alfred did not want to know what setting a bad example looked like. Nevertheless, he did as he was told and a short moment later he found himself in the seat directly opposite Arthur's.

Arthur's meal had not been touched yet. It consisted of a small bowl of salad bathing in an orange-colored cocktail sauce, and on the plate in the middle of his food tray lay a buttery hill of mashed potatoes, a thick slice of meat covered with dark sauce and some peas. Furthermore, there was another tiny bowl with chocolate pudding. A spot of whipped cream topped the dark dessert.  
Alfred could not believe his eyes! This looked so much better than the food they sold at his school! If losing weight and getting healthy was actually that easy, Alfred would get used to it in no time!

The bubble of Alfred's joyful anticipation popped the moment his food tray was put under his nose. The salad was identical to Arthur's, except for the fact that Alfred's dressing was only a mixture of herbs, vinegar and oil. The potatoes on his plate were simply cooked, chopped and salted, and the slice of meat was replaced by a sauce-less turkey steak. No peas, just some unidentifiable white vegetable sticks. The nectarine did not deserve the name dessert, and Alfred's plastic cup was filled with mineral water.  
This was a joke, was not it? Alfred believed that there must have been a misunderstanding. Overwhelmed by shock, he did not even see the other patients and nurses trooping into the room. Like ants, each of them knew exactly where to sit and what to do. The queen ant, a white clock, hung on the wall and ticked faintly commands.

"Hi, you're the new patient, aren't you?" greeted a male nurse while he was sitting on one of the free chairs next to Alfred. "I'm Josh. And if I were you I'd start eating before it gets cold."  
"No way, man!"  
"Pardon?"  
"I can't eat this! I don't even have sauce. Why does Arthur have sauce and peas and chocolate pudding? It's not fair!" Alfred complained furiously.

"You know what? You can have all my peas and the pudding, too!"

"No!" declined Josh Arthur's generous offer on Alfred's behalf before the latter even had the chance to speak his own mind. "You eat what's on your plate, Alfred. This rule applies to all patients."

Alfred used his fork to comb through the odd white sticks which emitted a very severe smell. Wrinkling his nose, he finally dared to taste one of them. His teeth sunk into the soft boiled texture of the vegetable, but as soon as his sugar-spoiled taste buds detected the unfamiliar flavor, Alfred shook with disgust.  
"Whoa! This is fucking gross!"

"Eat it, Alfred. You're not going to leave this dining room until you ate up", Josh stated matter-of-factly.

"But I can't eat this! I don't even know what it is!"

"That's kohlrabi, you cretin!" Pretending to love peas more than anything else on this planet, Arthur shoved half a spoon full of them into his mouth.

"I bet you hate kohlrabi, too, you lucky bastard!"

"Guys, stop it! No more complaints, insults or food deals at this table" Josh exhorted both boys. Then he devoted his full attention to Alfred. "Sorry, Alfred. You've got to eat what's on your plate, whether you like it or not. That's one of the rules here. You'll see, our rules will help you recover. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

"No, I'm fine! I don't need recovery!"

Arthur burst into laughter, the masticated green peas still in his mouth. Josh's smile was kind but imperturbably.

Frustrated, Alfred wished he could plunk down his fork and walk the whole way back to the McDonald's where his family had stopped earlier. This clinic was no help whatsoever! Today he was forced to eat inedible kohlrabi. Heaven only knew what awaited him tomorrow!

Groaning, Alfred tried his green salad. Since he was used to eat salad on burgers and sandwiches, he had always assumed to like it. However, the sobering realization that salad without grilled meat and cheese tasted nothing like Alfred expected it to taste slowly set it...  
While unenthusiastically chewing the green leaves, Alfred took a gander at the other people in the room. By now, almost all chairs were taken, either by nurses or patients. In fact, there was only one food tray still waiting for its owner. Nancy who stood next to the table that still missed a patient, checked the clock and sighed:  
"Same procedure as every day... I'll go and get Feliciano."

A male nurse sitting at the table in the center of the room nodded without commenting on the matter.

"Why's Feliciano not here?" Alfred wondered while he was observing the other patients who reservedly poked in their food.

"He never shows up voluntarily. This boy is such a fool." Bitterness was suddenly the only emotion left in Arthur's voice. No more sarcasm, no more disdain. Eyes narrowed, he abruptly took his knife and cut a large piece from his slice of meat.

Josh as well as the other people in the room kept quiet. Obviously, talking during meal times was not very popular in this clinic. For Alfred was used to eat alone in front of the TV or computer, the silence did not really bother him. Lulled by youtube videos or cartoons, Alfred never realized how eating turned into an automatic process. His sorrows simply disappeared then in a fog of flavors, while more and more food entered his body. The more he ate, the denser the fog.  
Now, without any distraction, Alfred had to acknowledge the tastes of all the foods on his tray. There was no rescue. Neither the internet nor the TV was here to help him. Alfred did not even have a coke to wash away the disgusting taste of the kohlrabi sticks.

"...but I'm not hungry! Really, I swear!" Whining, a distressed Feliciano entered the dining room. The nurse's strict gaze in his back like a gun, he reluctantly put one feet in front of the other and shied away from his tray like a horse from a ditch too wide to jump.

"Here we go again..." mumbled Arthur. With the speed of a guillotine, his fork shot down into his salad and cocktail sauce splattered on the tray.

In the meantime, Feliciano had unwillingly taken his seat. His brown eyes, almost cracking with terror, stared at the food right in front of him. He shared the small table for four with another patient: A tiny and fragile girl. Every two minutes she was able to conquer her disgust and took a bite from her meal. A pretty pink ribbon shimmered in her thin blonde hair. Apart from this bright accessory, the girl was deathly pale. Terrified, Alfred noticed how much Feliciano resembled her! Lucent and lifeless, the Italian boy hid his hands in the long sleeves of his loose sweater and constantly jiggled his feet. The merry Feliciano Alfred had met earlier seemed to have switched places with some kind of sick twin...

Concerned, Alfred averted his gaze from his roommate and studied the people occupying the table in the center of the room. Most patients there seemed to have a normal eating tempo. A corpulent blonde girl stuck out, though, because she went great lengths to follow the tempo of the patients surrounding her. Alfred's first thought was that she must be very hungry and, just like him, she was probably used to eat much bigger meals in less time.

Bravely, she exterminated one kohlrabi stick after another and chewed each of them longer than Alfred thought a kohlrabi stick could possibly be chewed. Then she noticed being watched and made a small pause to return Alfred's look. Her round face hosted a pair of penetrating eyes and her red mouth conjured up a tender smile. For some unknown reason, Alfred thought her to be an uncomplicated person. Maybe the two of them would get along like he and Feliciano did. Alfred really liked the caring charm diffusing from her kind features. Yet he had difficulties deciding whether he found her attractive or not. She appeared to hide something under her wide dress and the long light hair. Something Alfred could not put a name to. It was just there, not even giving the information if it had ever bothered to ask the girl if its company was okay for her.

Feliciano still stared at his food as if it was poisoned.

About seven minutes later Alfred had finished his meal. His portion had been much too small and the food much too dry. To his surprise, the nectarine had actually been the most enjoyable part.  
Still hungry, Alfred could not keep his eyes from Arthur's pudding. Arthur was currently dealing with the rest of his mashed potatoes. According to his frustrated face, the yellow hill made him feel sick.

The first few patients stood up and left the dining room. Most of the patients stayed seated, though, and killed the time with running their hands through their hair or picking up lint from their lint-free clothes.  
Arthur won the battle against his potatoes and destroyed the rest of his orange juice at one draft. The moment he put his cup down was the moment he got up from his chair and walked out of the room. With more and more patients leaving, Alfred did not see the need to stay either. But when he wanted to put his thought into practice, Josh hold him back by laying a hand on Alfred's forearm.  
"Your 30 minutes aren't up yet."

"30 minutes?"

Josh nodded, "Yes, I'm counting the time for you. Patients with a history of throwing up after eating have to wait for 30 minutes before they're allowed to leave the dining room. The waiting time eases the urge, you'll see."

"But...!" Disbelief tied up Alfred's trachea and an uncomfortable heat scorched over his cheeks. What kind of stupid rule was that? Alfred never threw up! In his own mind, his puking behavior was as good as nonexistent and hence nothing to speak of! Most of the calories he consumed on a daily basis stayed exactly where they belonged: inside his body! His weight proved it, now did not it?!  
"I only did that a couple of times and I don't do it anymore!"

"Well, even a couple of times is a couple of times too often. And, like I said before, our rules will help you recover."

"But I don't need recovery!" Alfred's ensuring protest went unheard. His ears were burning with fiery anger and abysmally embarrassment. It was not fair that this stupid male nurse forced him to stay seated! The big girl was long gone. No-one suspected her of throwing up her food, so why did they keep Alfred in the dining room? He could understand that some of the patients at the table in the center were still here. They were all skinny and certainly used to puke their guts out on a daily basis. But Alfred? He was not like them. He was different. He was fat. He had never put enough effort into losing weight. If only he had puked more often...

Pissed, Alfred played with his fork and burned a hole in the table with his gaze. He could not describe how much he heated this place...!

Eventually, Josh said, "Your time is up." And without saying good-bye, Alfred stomped out of the room. The situation at the table next to the door had not changed. The tiny girl still struggled through her meal, while Feliciano had not even begun eating yet.

Alfred wondered how long it would take until Feliciano would returned to their room...


	3. inappetītus vs 26 9

**Author's Note:** As always, I'd like to start the new chapter with saying hello to all new readers/followers. I'm happy to see you like this story! I also want to say thank you to ManifestDoom, Love0802, hetaliatomalia, and Guest for leaving a review! :-) Thank you very much for taking the time to write a short comment! :-) I hope you all enjoy chapter 3!

(a)Guest: I've to admit I'v never heard of "Get well soon". Is it any good? However, naming the clinic in this story Sunny State was irony because Alfred has to spend his summer vacation there xD I'm terrible person, I know.

 **(a)Cat: Thank you for being such a great beta reader! :-)**

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 **{03. |** _in_ _appetītus_ vs. **26.9** **}**

Waiting for Feliciano's return from the dining room seemed in vain. Although Alfred had not occupied himself with counting the minutes, he knew for sure that he had been back in their room for quite a while now. Deciding to make the best of this situation, Alfred tried to get comfortable with his "new home". That was easier said than done, though, because the stuff he regarded essential for this purpose had been confiscated by the same nurse who had taken his laces, his razor and his nail scissors. He was so going to die of boredom without his cellphone, his laptop and the internet!  
In his introductory talk with the doctor, it had been mentioned that from tomorrow on sport would be part of his recovery plan, too, but this did not help Alfred fighting today's stuffiness. Moreover, he no longer had the urge to do any sweat-including activities. Approximately seven months ago, Alfred had left his school's baseball team in a mad rush, in spite of the fact that he had been a passionate and talented player ever since his childhood. His parents still had not noticed. They never asked questions about their son's leisure activities or friends anymore, and Alfred preferred to keep his mouth shut concerning this matter...

Alfred really wished he could stop thinking about the mess he called life, but his current location didn't offer any distraction. The cream colored walls were undecorated, except for some landscape sketches hanging about Feliciano's bed. The barred window sat in the wall right across from the door. On the right wall as well as on the left wall of the small, rectangular room housed a wardrobe, a desk and a bed. The bedside tables met under the window. The furnishings were built out of light wood and had simple round handles. Although serving their purpose, they were everything but inviting. And what on earth was Alfred supposed to do with a desk? He was not the type of person who wrote letters or painted pictures, and since his summer vacation had just begun he certainly would not lift a finger for school!  
He could use the desk to work on his new model airplane of a Boeing 747 SCA, though. This morning, right before departure, Alfred's parents had given him the huge box with the model airplane in it. The gift had probably been bought for one purpose only: to soothe his parents' bad conscience. Alfred could not come up with another explanation. The gift had passed through the nurse custom untouched, but Alfred was in no mood to sit down and enjoy his hobby. The huge white five printed on one side of the box referred to the difficulty level, and his new clinic life made Alfred way too jittery to focus on a horde of almost identical looking tiny parts. At the moment, he needed something else. Something that allowed him passivity without thinking, like the TV or the internet. All of a sudden, Alfred terribly missed his DVD collection and his video games, his room and his freedom. Getting better was impossible for him without these things...

Turning his attention away from his own misery, Alfred caught sight of the small card boxes on Feliciano's desk. Out of pure curiosity, he lifted the cover from one of the card boxes and was greeted by countless letters. Alfred was not surprised. If Feliciano's family was as talk-active as Feliciano, a card box was filled in no time. Alfred doubted his parents were going to send him anything by post during his stay in the clinic. Somehow this was not their style.

Feli's many books and magazines did not offer any distraction to Alfred either. Apart from the Bible(!) and some magazines dealing with architecture, all of Feliciano's readings focused on food, cooking and baking. Now that was counterproductive, was not it?  
Alfred decided that reading was not an option for him and thus he did not even take a look at the blurbs of the two books his mother had conned him into.

With a heavy sigh Alfred left his room to check on Feliciano. Maybe he had finished his meal by now and chatted with some other patients in the living room. At least that was what Alfred hoped to see. Yet, his optimism had absolutely nothing to do with reality.  
Sunken into himself, Feliciano still sat on his chair, meal status unchanged. Nurse Nancy, who shared the table with him, was fully concentrated on working in some files.

It was not until Alfred had abandoned his post at the door and actually entered the dining room that he could hear a weak whimpering. Feli was crying –and Nurse Nancy ignored him?! How could she? Quickly Alfred made his way to the table and took the empty seat right next to his roommate. Due to the decreased distance, Alfred was now able to see Feliciano's red-rimmed eyes, his running nose, as well as the half-dried remains of tears on his cheeks.  
"What's wrong?" Alfred asked in a concerned voice.

His roommate lost a heart-breaking sniffle.  
"Everything's fine. I'm just not hungry."

Extremely confused, Alfred looked at the nurse who shortly stopped writing to dart an admonishing gaze at Feliciano.  
"Only two minutes left, Feliciano. You know what's going to happen if your time is up and you haven't finished your meal."

A pair of fresh tears popped into Feliciano's brown eyes. In a flash, one of them grew into a thick drop and plopped on Feli's serving tray. His whole body was slayed by a frantic trembling. Alfred was no longer confused but rather scared. This was so paradoxical! How could Feli endlessly dote on food, but totally distress in the face of his meal?

"Look, man. It's not that bad! I swear, and I know what I'm talkin' 'bout because I had to eat kohlrabi which is definitely the most disgusting thing in the universe! So, why don't you just imagine there's pasta on your plate, huh?" Alfred did his best to motivate the other patient, yet none of his words were of use. To be honest, Alfred could hardly work up any enthusiasm for the cold food on Feli's plate. It had been a while since the food had been served, and in the meantime giant grease drops had inhabited the brown gravy.

Clicking her pen, Nurse Nancy closed the file in her hands.  
"Crying won't bring you anyway, love. Now, why don't you just start eating?"

"I don't want to..."

"You know the rules. You have to eat up."

"I better don't do that..." Signifying that he was serious, Feliciano shoved his tray away. Nurse Nancy's eyes laid on him like the weight of the world.  
"Is this your final word?"

"No, come on, Feliciano! You can do this. I mean, there's chocolate pudding on your tray. I repeat: **chocolate pudding**!" Alfred wanted to grab the dessert but the nurse put a spoke in his wheel as her hand shooed his fingers away like an annoying fly.  
"Keep your hands off Feliciano's pudding, Alfred!" This said, she turned her determination into resolute action by standing up and taking Feliciano's tray. "I'll go and get you your drink, Feliciano."

Drink? Alfred had no idea what the woman was talking about, and the answer was not written on Feliciano's face either. Worriedly Alfred studied his exhausted roommate whose legs boisterously rocked under the table. Feliciano had constantly been on the move since Alfred had met him. Not even while talking about his family Feliciano had been able to scrape together enough inner peace to sit down. Hence, Alfred was not surprised about the other youth's visible fight to stay seated. Jumping to his feet and running away as far as possible was apparently all Feliciano wanted to do.

By wiping his face with his right sleeve, Feliciano tried to erase the traces of his tears. Yet he did not manage to bring his sunny self back to life. With his paper-thin skin and his puffed, dull eyes he looked miserably to the core. Somehow he reminded Alfred of a stubborn child completely overstrained by the situation.

"I hate the food here, too," Alfred started a new attempt to distract Feliciano. "But how can you say no to chocolate pudding? Right now I'd give all my pocket money for chocolate pudding. Or a chocolate muffin. Or a cheeseburger with fries and a caramel Frappuccino. Jeez, that'd be so awesome...!" Alfred's craving for the sweet and fatty food was indeed so big by now that he could almost taste the rich ingredients on his tongue.

A blissful smile appeared on Feliciano's lips as he leaned back in his chair.  
"You know, I'm great at making Frappuccinos, ve~! My fratello is a big fan of them. If I could, I would freshly prepare a Frappuccinos for you."

"Really?!" Feliciano's friendliness warmed Alfred's heart which was no longer used to receive kindness from people his age.

"Sure! I always do a special recipe for my brother with a shot of really strong espresso. But I also know a Frappuccino recipe with cacao. So if you like cacao better, that's no problem. In any case, I need fresh milk, caramel sauce, whipped cream, and some of my homemade vanilla ice cream. For the ice cream, I use my mother's recipe consisting of milk, cream, some sugar and, of course, vanilla mark. I never use vanilla aroma, I always buy vanilla pods and scratch the mark out of them."

"Whoa, dude! That sounds so delicious! Let's get outta here and –"

"You two are not going anywhere!" Nurse Nancy's icy words froze every spark of Alfred's enthusiasm. Feliciano's smile crumbled to dust as Nancy thundered a huge plastic cup, filled with an undefinable slimy liquid, on the table.

"Don't make that face, Feliciano. You wanted this." With a persistent strictness, the nurse took her seat and dove into the file she had brought along.

Alfred did not dare asking any questions about this strange drink. It was either pure chemistry (the thought did not bother him much) or something gross like whisked cuttlefish (this thought nearly freaked him out!). If only he knew what happened to Feliciano's chocolate pudding! They had not thrown it away, had they? But even if it was kept in the kitchen, Alfred surely would not be allowed to eat it. Despite this knowledge, he was no longer able to ignore his body's urge for candy. He had not had any candy all day long, and hunger was striving through his mind like a starving tiger searching for prey. Even if chocolate pudding was a no go for him, the nurse might show mercy if he asked for something else.

"Can I have a cookie?" He smiled innocently at her. A cookie would be a drop in the ocean for the tiger living in Alfred, but it was still better than nothing.

"A _cookie_?" Snootily, Nancy lifted an eyebrow. "My friend, some of the reasons for your stay with us is to eat healthy and thereby lose weight. So why would I feed you cookies?"

Lose weight  
 **Lose weight.  
** **LOSE WEIGHT!  
** Embarrassed by the truth, Alfred turned his gaze away and suppressed a cry for help. This nurse did not have the slightest idea what he was going through! Just because he had to lose weight did not mean the clinic staff could simply deprive him the last thing bringing happiness to his life! Alfred needed his favorite treats. The prospect of a life without coke, waffles, cookies, ice cream, M&Ms, crackers, burgers, and chips made him terribly nervous since he knew it would not go well for long. Alfred had not even been here for a whole day yet and he already felt like an addict without access to his drug. If only he had refused to come here in the first place...!

While Alfred was tortured by a sudden surge of panic and forlornness, Feliciano lifted his right hand. His long, skinny fingers slung around the huge cup as if he needed to befriend it first in order to trust its content. Eventually, he lifted the cup but still could not bring himself to drink.

"Hold your nose shut with your fingers and drink it, dude." What was so difficult about eating and drinking? Alfred simply did not get it. Not eating was so much harder, as first-hand experiences had taught him. He had skipped breakfast and lunch on many school days over the course of the past year; but no matter how hard he had tried to stick to his plan, he had always ended up hungry as a bear in the afternoons. And as soon as school had been over, the gorging had begun...

"Alfred, why don't you leave Feliciano and me alone?" The nurse's intonation left no doubt that this was an order. Furthermore, the constellation of her facial features gave Alfred the well-meant advice to never ever start an argument with her. Alfred's eyes narrowed furiously anyway. Why were his attempts to help rewarded with being removed from the table? That did not make any sense!

And how could it cost someone like Feliciano so much effort to empty a plate or a cup? He was not afraid of gaining weight, was he? Because that would be really ridiculous!

Knowing he was no longer welcome, Alfred stood up from his chair, put his hands in the pockets of his hoody and trotted out of the dining room. Obviously, the only patients allowed to eat in this stupid clinic were those who did not to want to eat on any terms. Alfred would bet his life that Feliciano would get a cookie if he asked for it!

* * *

" **Morning, boys!"**

Alfred almost got a heart attack as the loud voice cut into his dream and artificial light flooded the room. The destroyer of his nighttime peace, a nurse, stood unconscious of any guilt in the wide open door and seriously expected him to start a new day in this damn clinic.

Tired as hell, Alfred rolled on his stomach and pressed his face in his pillow. Somehow he was convinced that it was still in the middle of the night. The lack of movement in the other bed strengthened his assumption. If Feliciano did not get up, Alfred saw no need for himself to do so.  
Alfred had not taken the nurse into account, though. With an angry "I can't believe it! Boys, it's been 20 minutes since I woke you up! Now get out of bed or you'll be late for breakfast!" she screamed him awake a second time. He had not even realized that he had fallen asleep again...

With his head still in dreamland, Alfred sat up and extensively rubbed his eyes. As he opened them again, his gaze fell upon Feliciano and Alfred was promptly wide-awake. Yesterday, he had thought it greatly exaggerated to force Feliciano to eat or drink against his will. Now, while watching the Italian boy removing one layer of clothes after another, Alfred changed his mind. Under Feliciano's pajamas, a long shirt, a t-shirt, and a pair of jogging pants emerged. Feliciano was shrinking with every piece of clothes he tossed on his bed, until he was only skin and bones in a white t-shirt and a pair of green boxers. Sharp like ice pickles, his shoulder blades, hip bones and collar bones peeked through the delicate fabric.

Paralyzing shivers ran down Alfred's spine and left him motionless on the edge of his bed. As much as he wanted to, he just could not stop staring for he had never seen such an emaciated person before.  
Feliciano was either too tired to notice or he simply did not care. Sedated, he picked up his bathrobe from his desk chair and put it on. His slow steps lead him out of the room; his eyes were almost completely closed, as if he was laughing. Yet, there was nothing funny about this situation. Especially not for Alfred who felt fatter than ever due to the direct comparison between himself and the other patient.

Alfred would have gone back to sleep –he already hated his body too much to face other people–, but the nurse bestowed an impatient glance on him. Because of her silent force he stood up, fished his bathrobe from his wardrobe and followed Feliciano. The nurse nodded in satisfaction. The electronic watch on her wrist read 06:28.

A conspicuous line of patients stood in front of the weighing room. For some unknown reason, Feliciano suddenly seemed to be in a hurry. Visibly freezing, he passed one patient after the other like a ghost, until he was next in line. Neither complaints nor comments were heard. The rest of the patients was probably still as tired as Alfred who took his place at the end of the line. The hard light hurt his eyes, and he was not used to getting up this early as his blurred vision proved. Sighing, he leaned his head against the cold wall. Then and there, sleep embraced him graciously again, only to be chased away a few minutes later by a soft touch to Alfred's upper arm.

"You're next," the sweet voice of a huge pink mountain informed him.

Rubbing his eyes in confusion, Alfred slowly came back to his senses and realized his bad sight was not only the result of his lack of sleep. He had also forgotten to put on his glasses before leaving his room. Now that explained a lot...

"Uh, I can't really see who you are, but thanks anyway..."

The pink mountain flinched, turned around and whizzed quietly down the corridor. The bigger the distance grow, the clearer the picture got. Alfred eventually identified the pink mountain as the overweight blonde girl whose gaze he had met yesterday during lunchtime. She was wearing her hair in a long pony tail today, and her pink fluffy bathrobe snuggled to her wide frame.

"Hey, last one in line! Come in! I don't have all day!"

Turning his head, Alfred identified the source of the rude invitation as a slim woman standing in the door to the room of doom. Her fingers drummed a summoning rhythm against the door frame. With her pitch-black, accurately cut bob and her striking eye-liner she looked nothing like a nurse or doctor or whatever she was. She rather reminded Alfred on an ill-tempered Cleopatra who had been pushed from her throne and now vented her spleen on the poor patients.

Reluctantly Alfred followed her barked instructions, entered the room, took off his bathrobe and stepped, only in pajamas, on the scale. Cleopatra noted down the result in a file, measured Alfred's height and wrote down the number as well.  
"Anything eaten or drunken today?" she bluntly asked. Alfred's reply was a negative shake of the head.

"Alright then..." With quick fingers Cleopatra typed something into the calculator laying on her desk, then she lifted her chin to meet Alfred's eyes.

"Your BMI hasn't changed since your preliminary examination. It's still 26.9."

"Okay." Alfred had no clue what he was expected to do or say, but he remembered the humiliating examination: He had been weighed by his family doctor who had scribbled the ugly number on Alfred's registration form for the clinic. Alfred had just stared at the piece of paper that was about to ruin his summer. All the while he had hung his head in shame because he had gained about 20 pounds since the last time he had weighed himself in private.

Cleopatra sat down and gestured Alfred to use the other chair. Her meticulously created cat eyes caught him like a mouse. While Alfred's veins filled with cold discomfort and burning abashment, he rocked in his chair and unconsciously adjusted his bathrobe.

"Well, Alfred, you had your introductory talk yesterday, so you probably know what a BMI above 25 means."

"That I'm too fat?" he guesses with a broad but fake grin.

"No, it means you're slightly overweight. And if there's one statement I never want to hear you say again in my examination room it's 'I'm too fat'. Got that?" Her harsh criticism almost wiped the smile off of Alfred's face. His old self would have argued without restraint with Cleopatra, but Alfred's current self was muzzled by the embarrassment he felt about his weight. With a simple "Yes" he pretended to accept her shitty expert opinion and was glad when she told him this was all for today. According to Alfred's feelings, this had not been all for today. It had been way too much! This day sucked ass before Alfred had even seen his breakfast...

While Alfred's mind juggled with the ugly number and the devastating effect it had on his life, Alfred returned to his room to collect his toiletry bag as well as some clothes. Then he headed to the men's shower room which offered four shower cabins in total. Despite the fact that each of the cabins was opaque, Alfred wished he had his own bathroom and some more privacy. At least he was not forced to undress in front of other people...

He entered one of the cabins, closed the door and put his stuff on the plastic seat attached to the wall. Apart from the crackling of water on the tiles in one of the other shower cabins, it was silent in the damp room. Most of the male patients had already finished their mourning routine. Alfred was just late because he had not gotten up in time.

Face blank, Alfred turned on the water, tested the temperature and stepped into the lukewarm wetness. For a moment, he just stood there and did nothing, except for commanding his negative thoughts to shut up. Needless to say, they did not.

 **He was too fat.**

That Cleopatra did not want to hear it did not matter to Alfred. It was his body and it were his feelings, and he felt fat. During his introductory talk, the procedure of calculating his BMI had been explained to him. A BMI of 25 had been defined as one of his first long-term goals. Alfred remembered it now. Yet the memory did not help, it only hurt because 26.9 was not 25. Even if he would somehow reach a BMI of 25, he still would not have his old figure back. He was so, so many pounds away from normal and from happy...  
A year ago, everything had been different. His weight had not even been an issue and he had been completely fit. As a member of the baseball team, he was used to step on the scale two or three times a year. He had learned that muscles were heavier than fat, and his coach had always been pleased with Alfred's weight and his performance on the field. Alfred refused to imagine what his coach would say about Alfred's current weight and lack of fitness...

Tilting his head until his chin met his chest, Alfred was glad he could not see much of his body in the pouring shower rain. Sadly, the water was unable to switch off his feelings. The fat was right there; Alfred might not be able to see it but he could feel it under his wandering hands.  
How had he become so fat in so little time? No wonder people in school had started talking shit about him. The worst thing about the nasty gossip was that Alfred deserved it for he had not taken enough care of himself.

Matthew was not fat. He was not even close to chubby. He was just a guy, smiling from a photo Alfred had discovered on Facebook. This perfectly normal looking guy lived hundreds of miles away from Alfred, in Canada's capital. Although Alfred had never been in Ottawa, he had grown up with the name of the city in his ears since Ottawa had been the destination of his father's regular business trips for as long as Alfred could remember.

Full of raving hate, Alfred caught a small fold of his belly fat beneath his thumb and his index finger and squeezed it like a maniac. Despite the striking pain, he did not let go until he had repaired his demolished smile. The new born pair of crescents on his belly shone bright like a diamond.

* * *

Dear readers, please be aware that the BMI only indicates a standard value. It neither takes a person's statue into account nor the individual composition of fat and muscles. Nonetheless, for this story I decided it's easiest to work with standard weight categories. A BMI between 18.5-24.9 is regarded as normal for an adult. I put Alfred in the adult category since he's 16 and quite tall for his age.


End file.
